


our first dance

by saraheli



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Best Man!Hansol, F/M, Fluff, Maid of Honor!Reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 06:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15624255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saraheli/pseuds/saraheli
Summary: You’d never been in a wedding, let alone held one of the most important roles aside from the bride and groom. Luckily for you, Hansol is in a similar boat, and he makes sure that if one of you fails, you both fail together.





	our first dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ghyx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghyx/gifts).



“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, hm?” 

Your mother had hummed, giggling over the phone when you’d told her that you had been asked to be in your good friend’s wedding party. 

“I’m maid of honor,” you replied, trying not to let yourself tense at your mother’s immediate dismissal of what should have been something happy. You went on to point out, “It has nothing to do with me.” 

Your stomach had flipped in that moment of silence between your half-snap and your mother’s response, and it flipped now that the rehearsal dinner was finally upon you all. You had briefly met everyone in the days of touring and preparations, but now you couldn’t rely on any of them as you committed mentally to making this night run as smoothly as possible without worrying the bride or groom. 

Luckily for you, however, the best man, Hansol, seemed to have the same idea. He sat beside you, fidgeting in silence as he tried to get a good look at the whole of the room. You, however, powered by your own focus and anxiety, couldn’t stay beside him for too long without standing and milling about to make sure that hors d'oeuvres were correct and being served well. Hansol followed, panicked, after you from his seat. 

“We’re supposed to stay together,” he said once he could stand beside you at the edge of the room. “So that we can be easily found. Plus, you know, the whole principle of the thing is that—”

“Yes, yes, I know,” you replied, “but this night has to go well. I don’t—”

“Want them to worry?”

“Interrupting each other can’t be a good way to become friends,” you chuckled.

“Oh, what? We’re not already friends?”

“Oh,” you looked over at him briefly. “I didn’t think that barely speaking and being drunk near each other while those two,” you pointed to where the bride and groom to be stood with some family members, “stressed in the other room about flowers and table settings counted as becoming friends.” You chuckled, laughing more when Hansol pretended to be offended. 

“I guess, but, well, now we at least have to get along. Be a team and all that,” he shrugged, letting himself lean back against the wall. “So uh,” he turned so that he was leaning on his side rather than his back: facing you, “you met Eunji in college, huh?”

You nodded, “Yeah. And you’ve been friends with Chaewon since you were fifteen years old, and the two of you used to ride your bikes into the—what was it?”

“The pond. Our parents were  _ pissed _ because that water corroded the gears to shit,” Hansol tossed his head back and laughed royally. “When did I tell you that?”

“Remember when we talked outside the florist,” you said, mouth curving into a smile slightly as your focus on the hall of people slipped, “I went outside because Eunji’s mother was actually screaming about how much she hated lilies, and I was developing a very real migraine, and you didn’t want me to be alone out there, so.” 

“So,” he picked up where you left off, “I kept you company and, while mildly intoxicated, told you my tragic backstory as heroes are wont to do.” 

You scoffed, “Right. And I left myself a mystery so that you would have to come back for more.”  You added teasingly. 

Hansol opened his mouth to tease you right back, but you were gone; with a gasp and a gentle breeze of your perfume, you were bolting towards the entryway where a group of the other bridesmaids had gathered with Eunji. 

“Where have you been?” She asked you, bringing you in for a little hug. “I wanted to make sure you were all having a good time.”

“Us? I was just...well, I was making sure that everything was running alright so that you could enjoy yourself,” you furrowed your eyebrows at her. “And Hansol, too, he was being helpful by distracting me from my task.”

She chuckled, “I’m glad you two get along.” She gushed, “That makes everything about a million times easier. You two are sweet, but this is supposed to be fun for you, too. Make sure you both get to have a break. Dance, get a little tipsy, I don’t know, just...try not to stress yourself out unless you have to.”

“Fine, but only if you don’t stress yourself out at all. Not even when it is required. Not ever.”

Eunji giggled and nodded, “Deal.” 

You let her introduce you to what felt like hundreds of people, then. The maid of honor was really quite a hot topic of conversation at rehearsal dinners, apparently. All of the conversations were shallow and sugary with falsely shrill laughter and claims about the alleged “badness” of each other when making playful comments about your youth together. It was quite exhausting, really. 

Hansol had returned to his seat beside your own by the time your rounds were over. You sat down in your chair with a huff, and he nudged you with his elbow as you took a drink of your water. 

“You good?” He chuckled, watching as your rosy flush began to subside with your breaths. “You were gone for a while there. Thought I lost you.” He joked, setting his hand nonchalantly atop your knee. 

You laughed breathlessly, “No. Just meeting everyone on the planet. I’m okay.” 

He laughed softly through his nose, “I’ll just have to stick close so that I can help you escape in a pinch, huh?” 

You looked over at him and smiled, “I guess, but there’s not much you can do if Eunji is the one I’m escaping from. I can’t just leave her hanging at her own rehearsal dinner.”

Hansol thought for a moment, “But you need a break from this.” He gestured to the room, doubtlessly referring to the noise and the bustle and the constant commotion, “So, we should go—”

“We can’t  _ go _ anywhere, what if they need us?”

“I promise you that they won’t even notice if we step away for a minute,” Hansol assured you, his smile warm with childlike innocence. 

After a few more seconds of considering it, you nodded and let Hansol walk you out of the event hall and into the corridor of the hotel. It smelled of fancy soap and the plush ruby carpeting was plush beneath your heels. It took you a moment to notice the pressure of Hansol’s palm against your back as he guided you towards the lobby, and, once you did, you couldn’t explain the way your pulse seemed to quicken. He smelled like cedarwood and cloves, and you wondered if he’d been in the kitchens for a moment, but you were quick to remind yourself that he had smelled just the same that night you’d spent together outside the florist. You questioned yourself for remembering his scent as he released you into a leather chair near the exit to the hotel. 

“Wanna people-watch with me?” Hansol asked, loosening his tie. “I was thinking we could—”

“Play that one game where we map out people’s lives based on their appearance? How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“That I love being creepy like that,” you crossed one leg over the other and turned towards the door slightly. 

The two of you did this for much longer than you’d anticipated, each of you taking turns exploring the possible backstories of caricatures created over the faces and bodies of an ever-flowing river of strangers for well over half an hour. Hansol clasped your knee when he laughed, drawing you closer to him when he wanted to say something particularly ridiculous or riddled with scandal. 

“Oh,” you looked over at him to find his eyes already fixed on your own. “We have to go back, they’re probably going to start eating soon.” 

Hansol’s laughter finished as he nodded. “Yeah. Man,” he looked over at the clock, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice how late it's gotten.” 

You shook your head and stood, flattening the wrinkles from your skirt. You started back towards the event hall, but Hansol stilled you with a hand on your elbow as he straightened himself so that you two could return arm in arm. 

After that, you went through a dinner of knuckles brushed together atop the table and legs comfortably pressed against one another beneath it. You two made no effort to stifle the little bits of contact between your bodies, each of you bubbling with gentle excitement at the slow trek into the unknown, the experience not dissimilar to high school crushes sitting beside one another in class. 

You could see him watching you in your periphery as you laughed along with other members of the wedding party, eyes absently scanning your features and lips curving into a soft smile. You tried to ignore him, occasionally meeting his gaze before shyly turning back to your food. Hansol smiled wider at this, heartwarming at the knowledge that he had been the one to make you blush like that. 

You didn’t get another moment like this with Hansol until the reception the next evening. Everyone was mingling and parading around, and you stood near Eunji with a glass of wine clasped between both hands. Hansol stood on the other side of the couple, talking with Chaewon and his father. Your eyes caught his in a lull of the conversation, and he smiled, but your eyes averted nervously towards the dance floor. This made him grin only wider, excusing himself for a moment before coming to stand slightly behind you.

“Not much of a dancer, are you?” He asked, eyes locked on your lips as he came closer to your side rather than your back. 

You scoffed and took a second to look back at him, “Not exactly. What made you guess that?”

“Didn’t dance yesterday, not dancing now...I think I’m just putting two and two together frankly.”

You chuckled but couldn’t force back a roll of your eyes. “Yeah…it looks fun, but I know that I would  _ definitely  _ make a fool of myself. I have the balance of a toddler.” 

“Is that why you have to cling to the table in those shoes?”

“Shut up!” You turned to swat him on the arm, “You couldn’t last for a second in heels! Also! I am not that bad!” You paused for a moment before crossing your arms, “Am I?” Your cheeks pinked.

Hansol laughed, eyebrows raising at your sudden change in demeanor. “No, no,” he assured you. “Maybe I’m just watching too closely and normal steps look wobbly to me.” 

You made a face: eyes narrowed, lips frozen in an open-mouthed smile of sorts as you inspected his words in preparation to carefully select your own. Beside you, out of even your blurred periphery, Hansol stood, statuesque, as he recounted what he’d said. It wasn’t even that he was  _ watching closely _ but that he was, admittedly, watching  _ you _ closely. He had been watching you since the rehearsal dinner, since before the rehearsal dinner, actually; he had been taken with you within the first hour of knowing you on the day he’d met the rest of the wedding party months ago. He’d brushed it off then as a superficial crush because, after all, he didn’t know you even in the slightest. Now, though, he knew you more, and he wanted to know you more still.

Hansol cleared his throat, “I just mean you’re not actually bad…do, um, did you want to dance? This song is easy for beginners, so I could help you if you want.” 

You released a nervous half-laugh and nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, sure that would be fine.” You paused, “Oh, you mean like, now?” 

“Uh,” Hansol chuckled awkwardly, “yeah, the song only lasts for so long…”

“Right.”

You let him gingerly lead you out onto the dance floor then. Surrounded by couples and children in outfits far too expensive for their table manners, you let him set his hand delicately on the small of your waist. You met his eyes meekly, lips parting to ask where to put your hands.

“You can put them on my shoulders,” he said softly as if reading your mind, his voice barely audible above the music. “Is it okay if I put my hands here?” His eyes widened a little and his hands suddenly hovered barely above you. 

You brought your hand to his and pressed it carefully to your own waist to resume his position. You moved your hands to his shoulders. Then, gently, he swayed you with him to the rhythm. He kept you close until he kept you closer, almost wrapping his arms around you. He stopped himself, though, smiling a little. 

“What do you think?” He asked, grip loosening as the song ended. 

“I think,” you smiled, hands coming to cup the base of his neck, “that dancing is surprisingly easy when you’re just swaying with old people.” 

He laughed, “Yeah, it is. You’re a natural.” He brought his hand up, bringing yours to his lips for a polite kiss on the knuckles. “It was my pleasure.” 

You gaped at him like a fish for a moment, letting him continue to hold your hand near his smile, but you soon found it necessary (and completely inevitable) to lean forward and kiss him on the cheek, mere millimeters from the corner of his lips. 

“Thank you for making me dance,” you whispered, leaning back to meet his eyes again.

His gaze on you was intense, wide-eyed, and nervous. He wanted to lean in and kiss you for real—forget the whole wedding and party and all of the people. You could feel that sweet warmth radiating off of him through his dress shirt. 

“I…” he interrupted himself with a short laugh.

“We’ll have more time to dance together once we’re not—”

“In a wedding? We’re not  _ really _ in one anymore, right? It happened, and now it’s the after party, so really…” He grinned, laughing a little as he averted his eyes with uncertainty. 

“So really, it would be perfectly appropriate for me to kiss you and not steal anyone’s thunder, huh?”

Hansol felt his face turn red, the feeling only intensifying as your lips ghosted over his. His eyes fluttered shut, and he swore he had never felt something so soft as your mouth’s silk moving fluidly and shyly against his own. The feeling made his heart leap out of his chest, and he would say for ages to come that someone else’s wedding was the best first date he’d ever had. 


End file.
